It doesn’t take much to get me excited, just say, “Jimmy, I was wondering if you’d like to come to the Beer Bistro to try some beer?” That’s beer twice in the same sentence, of course I’d like to ... what was the question?

It’s one o’clock, I show up at the venue expecting to try a few samples of beer, chit chat a little bit and then jet before things get out of hand and the afternoon becomes evening and the next thing I know I’m staggering home with a falafel in one hand and a traffic cone in the other (it’s been known to happen from such innocent, well-intentioned beginnings). My coat is taken by a woman dressed more for a Saturday night than a Thursday afternoon, a beer is thrust in my hand (Innis & Gunn Original) and I’m being introduced to other people who write about such things. It’s a little like a mini Star Trek convention, but without the elaborate costumes and secret language; we are geeks of an altogether different ilk.

Just seconds into the froth quaffings and how-do-you-dos I notice a long, banquet-style table laid out with linens, glasses and silverware. Okay, this is a luncheon – a luncheon differing from a standard, pedestrian lunch in that it’s perceptibly longer, more abundant and almost always boozy.

This is great, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.

The first course is foie gras and chicken liver mousse with a banana, onion and spiced-ale jam. It comes paired with Innis & Gunn Original, which works well with the plate, and I’m reminded that although I often gravitate towards wine in these situations, the right beer can often work equally well – just ask a German, Belgian or Brit for further confirmation.

The second course of roasted beets, goat’s cheese and arugula compliments the sourness of the oak-aged beer while highlighting the slight caramel sweetness often prevalent in stronger brews.

Then we are introduced to the Innis & Gunn Limited Edition Rum Cask, exactly the same beer as the Original but for the fact that it’s aged in Guyanese rum casks as opposed to “first-fill” American bourbon casks. The accompanying dish is short ribs braised in the beer we’re drinking – a match made in heaven – beer in my glass, beer in my food, what else can we put beer in?

Ice cream, apparently. The final course is my favourite, not because I’m a porky kid who simply ploughs through whatever’s put in front of him to get to dessert, but because the pairing of sticky toffee pudding and a butter-rum-caramel-beer ice-cream with a glass of the aforementioned beer is surprising and delightful. At 7.6 per cent alcohol, this is a beer that not only stands up to the complexity of flavours to be found in fine-dining cuisine, it demands to be served with it. Although, as one of my contemporaries quipped while sipping the ale, “It’s not a session beer.”

“You’re right,” I replied, “I couldn’t drink more than six or seven of these.”

Two hours later I’m catching the streetcar home, trying to stay awake as the blood leaves my brain and heads to my stomach to aid digestion and I remember thinking, “It feels like Christmas already.”

Jimmy Hogg is an actor/writer/director from the UK. He spends a great deal of time writing down things he thinks are funny while he´s drunk and then re-reading them and realizing that they´re not in the least bit funny. He writes and performs his own solo shows which can be seen across North America.

www.jimmyhogg.co.uk/